Rush Limbaugh Is A Dead Man, The Conclusion

Well howdy folks I’m still in Long Beach for the time being and Rush Limbaugh is still alive.  Now either of cannot necessarily be blamed for our current situations, but certainly we can regret them.  I imagine Rush Limbaugh hates himself much more than any of us could imagine.  Success is it’s own failure, the Buddhists would say, and no one has a higher level of failure through success than the fat big on the top of the radio tower.

Excellence in broadcasting indeed.

Think about it, for all of his rabble rousing, a black man is still the president, a woman is still the speaker of the house and I am still planning on killing Rush if I get cancer.  And of these three pivotal people in his life are democrats.  He must really hate himself.

I’m not a man consumed by hate,

I like Rush and his pleasant disposition.  I am beginning to cope with him and am finding to be a helpful addition to the class.

That is verbatim what my seventh grade teacher sent my mother when my grades began move, minus a Rush and plus a Brad, but it rings true.  I still failed, sorry Mrs. Peter, and Rush will still hit the radio tommorrow.

What is the point of this meandering.  Nothing.  I am as bored of this blog as all of you are.   All I know is that I am coming back to Illinois in a week for the festive celebration of Thanksgiving.   I have much to give thanks for but in my current evolution as a Buddhist I must say that there really should be a yin to the yang of Thanksgiving.

What I have decided is that the third Friday in March should be known as Shits-taking.  Now I believe that that sounds crass, and I apologize for my holiday, but what is said is said and I cannot change it.  Shits-taking will be a celebration of all the shit we have taken in the last year, and all the shit we we will take in the year to come.  Shits-taking will have no turkey, but fried chicken instead, preferably of the take out variety .  I mean who the hell wants to cook something for 8 hours anyway.  Shits-taking is all about bitching, families coming together to complain about one another, people inviting their boss over to yell at him, and him to yell about his boss.  It will be the communal event of catharsis and there will be fighting and drunkeness none the less.

We must never forget what we have sacrificed for our jobs that don’t pay us enough, our friends who don’t exalt enough and our family that has always viewed me as the black sheep.

Shits-taking is the future people, if we can spend a day blowing sunshine up our own asses than we can spend a Friday spitting venom at our neighbors.  Its there fault life sucks so much anyway.

Any-who . . . the Bears are outrageously untalented.  I am going to start a betting ring around Jay Cutler, one side has sacks the other interceptions.  Whoever comes out with more sacks/interceptions wins the kitty, straight up every Sunday.  And of course the Bears Fan’s will always loose.

My prediction for Sunday’s Game . . . 6 sacks 4 interceptions, but don’t listen to me, I’m just a fan.

Later on from another blog, I’m putting this nonsense to rest.

Fuzzy Pink Handcuffs???